Joyce Ray: Honoring Saint Hildegard- Doctor of the Church

From: Musings
http://joyceray.blogspot.com/2012/10/honoring-saint-hildegard-doctor-of.html
October 05, 2012 at 05:00AM

Yea for Friday– Poetry Friday!

New look! I played with Blogger and haven’t figured out how to revert!

Today I’m excited to share a poem born in the ruins of Disibodenberg––Saint Hildegard of Bingen’s first monastic home near Bad Sobernheim, Germany. On Sunday, October 7, Saint Hildegard will become a Doctor of the Church, the fourth woman to be awarded this honor. It means that this amazing 12th century woman’s writings have significantly influenced the doctrine of the Roman Catholic faith.

Hildegard’s contributions to music, art and medicine did not make her a saint, but the influence of her herbal remedies and musical compositions are felt today. Did I mention she was one strong woman in a male dominated world?

Experience the cathedral-like cloister ruins in this You Tube video. I hope you can feel the mystery of the stones in this sacred space as I did in 2002. How lucky I was to hitch a ride on my husband’s business trip to research Feathers and Trumpets, A Story of Hildegard of Bingen.

How lucky we all are to enjoy every Friday’s poetry selection! Hop over to Laura at Writing the World for Kids for the lineup.

CLOISTER RUINS

Seeds sprout in holy space until
beech and oak arch over toppled stones.
Larks trill in a hilltop canopy
where psalms once floated upward,
and leafy hands now murmur prayers.

The stones, weighted with
longing whispered in secret,
sink into the earth.
Centuries ago they tumbled, like thunder
rumbling through the Great Silence.

Ivy anchors their moss velvet faces.
Rose thorns ramble over crumbled gables.
Helpless to shelter, the stones stand sentry,
mute witnesses to divine desire.

Did you think wind, rain, the shifting of earth’s crust
conspired to collapse these hallowed structures?

Know this – the human heart
beats a hunger for its creator
more powerful than natural forces.
Echoes of supplication saturate each stone.
Ages of murmured ardor pull stronger then gravity.

These stones are deaf now.
Speak freely.

© Joyce Ray
All rights reserved. Previously published in Entelechy International

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